Following the chilling success of their first collection, Lady Eckland, Glenn Riley, and new collaborator, Bella Darkwood return to guide you through the shadowy corridors of fear with their second compendium, *Whispers In The Dark 2*. These master...
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The noonday sun beat down on the ramshackle town of Buzzard Gulch, bleaching the wood of the buildings and baking the dusty ground. Outside the saloon, the locals went about their business with heads down, avoiding eye contact. Something dark clung to the town like a venomous snake waiting to strike.
Inside the saloon, Jed Grimes stared absently at the sticky tabletop, trying to ignore the uneasiness churning in his gut. His fellow gang members, Sam, Lyle, and Hank, sat around nursing their whiskeys, silent as graves. The hush was broken only by the nervous drumming of Lyle's fingers on his glass.
Finally, Hank slammed his fist on the table. "Damn it all! How long we gotta hide out here like yellow-bellied deserters? I'm tired of jumpin' at every little sound!"
Jed shook his head. "You know why. Ever since..." His voice trailed off. He didn't need to say it. They were all thinking it.
"Reckon that bastard Jacob's still havin' his vengeance, even from hell," muttered Sam.
The others shifted uncomfortably and glanced around. Six months ago, they'd betrayed their leader, Jacob McCree, and sent him to the gallows over crimes they made up. They'd done it out of sheer greed, just to get to his hidden stash of gold that Jacob always bragged about. But before the hanging, Jacob had pointed at each of them in turn with fire in his eyes.
"You backstabbing curs! May you rot forevermore! I'll have my vengeance, in this world or the next!"
Those words still gave Jed chills at night. Right after, strange things started plaguing them, especially whenever they got near Jacob's stash. Livestock got mutilated, plants withered. There were whispers that some spectral force was punishing them on Jacob's behalf. Sam nearly got dragged off his horse by an unseen hand just outside of town. It was like Jacob's curse was turning real.
Now Buzzard Gulch had become their reluctant refuge. Former bustling gold rush towns around Jacob’s stash like Death Valley had turned overnight into ghost towns, and no one dared live around there anymore. For six months, Jed and the others had wandered these haunted lands like lost souls, never staying more than a few nights in one place. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.
Sam gulped down the rest of his whiskey. "We better light out soon. Word's startin' to spread 'bout us."
"Damned buzzards," Hank grumbled. "We ain't done nothin' to no one."
"Don't matter to them.” Jed stared gloomily into his glass. “We're marked men now.”
He didn't mention that he suspected something far darker than superstitious townsfolk was after them. Something vengeful, inhuman. And it was always right on their heels.
They left the saloon and headed for the livery to fetch their horses. But when they arrived, a gruesome sight awaited them. All four horses were strung up from the rafters by their necks, eyes bulging, swollen tongues lolling. The smell of blood and death turned Jed’s stomach. He gaped in shock as the others unleashed cries of horror.
